


Through Motions

by the-black-birb (moriturism)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Again, Angst, F/F, Unhappy Ending, i got sad and wrote about it, yeah thats about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:40:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23750086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriturism/pseuds/the-black-birb
Summary: You've spent far too long going through the motions.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Reader
Kudos: 53





	Through Motions

**Author's Note:**

> TW: unhappy relationship, mentions of sex

Kozume Kenma liked routine.

Routine meant safety. He could predict what would happen the next day, how the people around him would act, and what he could do about it. He liked routine, because it meant you’d always come home at the same time and he’d always know what to say and how to treat you. It was _easy._

So, you were surprised when he came home and kissed you.

 _That_ wasn’t routine.

You’d been dating for years now, and everything was fairly predictable. Lately, you barely even spoke to one another since you knew one another so comfortably. You didn’t _need_ to talk, you promised yourself. All of Kozume’s intricacies were already known to you, so there was no need to waste time on small talk or “how was your day.”

Or so you told yourself.

It didn’t matter, you promised yourself. It didn’t even hurt when he went straight to his room to stream instead of saying hello to you. When you sat alone at your counter, eating breakfast and dinner all on your lonesome you didn’t feel even a pinch of sadness. Frankly, you were certain you preferred it this way. Should it have hurt, you wondered. Should you be yearning to spend time with the man you’d sworn you fell madly in love with?

Should you even be thinking about this while having sex?

Well, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. Kenma never really _liked_ sex. He’d preferred to show affection in his own ways, like letting you play his games or choosing to hold a conversation with you for more than ten minutes. But it had been a long time since you’d done any of that. Maybe his love language changed, you wondered.

But the sex really wasn’t working. It had started with a heated kiss as soon as he was home from work, that escalated to him bringing you in the bedroom. He suggested it, so you agreed. The two of you had always been pretty vanilla with your love making. Your first time that’s exactly what it had been. Kenma didn’t like to expend energy, so all of his movements were slow and calculated. He held your body like a piece of art, taking his time to enjoy you.

But that was then and this was now. He was inside you, sure, and you were laying there all nice. Yet you were completely apathetic to it.

You wondered how he was even hard.

A voice whispered to you that maybe if the sex was good, your relationship could be, too. Because that’s all you really needed to function, right? Neither of you had never really _needed_ one another much, you were fine on your own. You were fine.

So you let your mind wander and you let him have you way with you. It didn’t really make a difference to you since all you had to do was lay there. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking about. Maybe this was the face you made when you were feeling immense pleasure.

Except Kenma knew it wasn’t. For every quirk of Kenma’s you knew, he knew three of yours. He knew how you’d always leave the floss on the bathroom sink instead of putting it away, and how you drank your coffee black aside from one teaspoon of honey. He knew so much about you he could’ve written a book, if he cared too.

But he didn’t.

Kenma thought maybe if he tried to love you again, he’d find a spark. But instead he was standing above you, running through the motions. You could care less, he was sure. You had the same look on your face as when you were trying to pick from a menu full of foods you didn’t eat. He wondered if you could even look him in the eye.

“[F/N],” Kenma called out to you, exiting your body. You didn’t really notice his ministrations ceasing. “You’re crying.”

You hadn’t even realized your cheeks were wet until he pointed it out, pulling up his pants and doing the zipper. You sat up to wipe your cheeks, mindlessly pulling up your shirt. “I am,” you agreed.

“Why?”

Kenma was perceptive, you knew, but you wondered if he knew the answer to this. You didn’t even understand it. You tried to find the answer, but all you could see was gray. All your words got stuck in your throat, until they were only coming out in choked sobs. Before you knew it, you were sobbing.

“What are we doing?” you heard your voice speak, but you weren’t really sure if it was _you_ speaking. It never felt like you in this apartment. The person who made you eat and speak and piss and shit wasn’t you. There was no way you’d ever let yourself be reduced to such a husk of a person. Barely even a ghost.

But Kenma was sitting next to you, undoubtedly watching you cry. Even though he’d never been the best with words, he’d always been good at comforting you. He’d offer you his jacket or squeeze your hand, assuring you of his presence. Sometimes he’d search up articles on your favorite animal, just so he could distract you with facts about them. It was stupid, of course, but it _worked._

Now, though, he sat a foot away from you. He watched you, but his lips were sealed. What could he do but agree?

“We’re hurting,” is the answer he decides on and your sobs only become louder. He wondered if he’s supposed to cry with you. Kenma had never really gone through a breakup. He wasn’t big on relationships before he met you and somehow, he found himself convinced you could work.

But even when you didn’t work, it was easier to stay in it than to stop. It was like having a roommate that you could also kiss, sometimes. He’d turned into a leech, kissing you when it felt good and ignoring you when it didn’t. And in turn, you did the same.

Because it was easier to keep up routine than to stop. It was so much easier to be unhappy than to say _I don’t love you._

Yet there was a tiny part of Kenma that wished he’d just ended it instead of trying to keep this dying relationship alive. Because now it was beyond repair and you were sitting next to him, crying without underwear on, and he was sitting next to you. And Kenma didn’t cry often but right now it felt like if he didn’t his chest might burst open.

It didn’t hurt to fall out of love, because it was slow and mutual. So why did this hurt? Why couldn’t you just be okay now?

_I don’t know if I ever did._


End file.
